


Something Like a Crush

by aohatsu



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 14:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: Eventually – three shoves and a lot of laughing later – they manage to settle in again, Tyler lying down mostly half on top of Jamie to avoid falling off the bed again. And okay, it isn’t that Jamie isn’t incredibly aware of how close Tyler is – his fingers curled over Jamie’s arm, his leg thrown over Jamie’s, his breath coming in short bursts against Jamie’s collarbone once he shuts up and actually pays attention to the movie. Really, it’s just that Jamie is used to it. Tyler wouldn’t know what personal space was if it smacked him in the face, and Jamie’s never really complained.





	Something Like a Crush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/gifts).



> ENJOY THIS RANDOM THING that has been in my WIP folder for longer than I care to tell you.

Tyler drops his backpack on the floor when he comes through the door. Jamie looks up at the solid thump of textbooks hitting the ground, foreshadowing the amount of homework Tyler has in store for him over the weekend. Jamie watches as Tyler crosses the short span of space from the door to Jamie’s bed and hops up on the end, words already spilling from his mouth.

“Tell me your mom is making something good for dinner, man.”

“Chicken and gravy, I think,” Jamie answers, because he’d been the one to go grocery shopping with her yesterday after she’d picked him up from hockey. Tyler exaggeratedly groans and says, “Fuck yeah,” before adding, “I’m staying over.”

Jamie snorts, because that much was obvious the minute Tyler walked in. He comes over often enough, sticking around for dinner and video games, or homework if Jamie’s parents get on their case. It’s not exactly a routine, but it’s close enough that Tyler can walk through the front door without knocking and nobody will even try to intercept him. Jamie guesses it’s one of the perks of the two of them having lived next door to each other since they were in primary school. 

Tyler’s phone chirps, and Jamie watches him dig it out of his pocket and then start fiddling with it, grinning in a way that says it’s probably a girl who’d just messaged him. Idly, Jamie turns back to the television he’d been messing with when Tyler first came in, trying to find something to watch even though he hasn’t been able to find the remote since the last time Jordie was visiting and they’d ended up halfway trashing his room during an impromptu wrestling match.

He ends up glancing back at Tyler, and then looks away again. It isn’t like he doesn’t get to look at Tyler all the time – it’s just that Tyler, somehow, manages to look good even when there’s nobody around to try for, even when he’s just wasting time by hanging out in Jamie’s room. He’s leaning back, one leg hanging off the edge of the mattress, wearing a baggy pair of sweats and an old t-shirt that says, **I WORK OUT, BRO** in faded military-style lettering, but it’s still an attractive enough picture that Jamie’s stomach is doing the customary butterfly routine – the same thing it always does when he’s around Tyler.

Mostly, Jamie’s used to it, since it’s been happening since he was fourteen. Or, well, he had finally figured out what it _meant_ when he was fourteen. He’d spent uncountable hours imagining what it might be like to kiss his best friend after a game, instead of the usual high-five and bro-hug, and finally settled on _amazing_ and _never gonna happen_ after a random practice when Tyler had been laughing harder than usual and Jamie hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away. Both were obviously true enough that it wasn’t even hard to act like he wasn’t okay when they’d met up for video games a few days later.

It’s whatever. Jamie’s takes pride in being realistic, so it isn’t like he’s harboring some sort of secret desire to confess his feelings. More than likely, it’ll never come up, and Tyler will never find out. They’ll be friends until they get old and start growing crazy-ass beards like the one Jordie came home with after his first semester at university.

Jamie settles on some Lifetime movie about a girl who’d found a horse in her family’s old broken barn. He heaves himself up and moves toward the open door, yelling down the stairs, “Mom, Ty’s staying for dinner!”

He hears her reply – _“I know!”_ – before he nudges the door shut with his foot, hoping to avoid hearing it if she also yells up with a request that he take out the trash. Tyler scoots over on the bed, a clear invitation. Jamie’s bed really isn’t meant for two people their size, but they’ve been cramming onto it since they were kids, and bad decision or not, Jamie’s not about to point out that it’d be just as easy (probably easier) for him to sit in the chair at his desk instead.

Jamie pushes Tyler over another inch to squeeze his bulk onto the mattress, still nearly hanging off it, but he manages to settle in after a minute of shifting around, Tyler budging up to make yet more room, if just barely. He says something under his breath about Jamie’s ass, but Jamie tends to ignore comments like that for the sake of his own sanity.

It goes quiet for a minute, until Tyler mutters, “What kind of movie is this?” and Jamie elbows him, watching as the girl decides to enter Bruno in a horse race in a last-option bid to save her family’s home from the bank that wants to re-possess it. 

Tyler makes a sudden movement, and Jamie flinches when a hand smacks into his chest and then grabs at his bicep, dragging him into the middle of the bed as Tyler fumbles and twists his torso to re-gain his balance, holding onto Jamie like a lifeline. Tyler starts giggling once he’s steady again, pressing his face into Jamie’s shoulder, the laughter vibrating through Jamie’s t-shirt in a way that makes him repress a shiver. “Dude,” he says, looking up, “I almost fell off the bed.” 

He throws a leg over Jamie’s, claiming more space, as if to punctuate the problem, and then goes back to giggling like a kid.

“I’ll push you off,” Jamie warns, but it isn’t true, and it just seems to add fuel to the fire because Tyler holds on tighter and starts wheezing.

Eventually – three shoves and a lot of laughing later – they manage to settle in again, Tyler lying down mostly half on top of Jamie to avoid falling off the bed again. And okay, it isn’t that Jamie isn’t incredibly aware of how close Tyler is – his fingers curled over Jamie’s arm, his leg thrown over Jamie’s, his breath coming in short bursts against Jamie’s collarbone once he shuts up and actually pays attention to the movie. Really, it’s just that Jamie is used to it. Tyler wouldn’t know what personal space was if it smacked him in the face, and Jamie’s never really complained.

Maybe it’s Jamie’s complete lack of expectation that the soft-pressed kiss against his jaw doesn’t seem like something that’s cause for alarm, and by the time his brain catches up with what’s happening, Tyler is already pressing his mouth to Jamie’s, his lips soft and dry. His fingers twist into Jamie’s shirt, clutching at Jamie as he tilts up to reach Jamie’s mouth and Jamie must be working off some kind of automatic setting because he somehow manages to kiss Tyler back, even though all he can think is _what_ and _why_ and _what what what_. 

He pushes up and into Tyler’s touch until the drag of their mouths becomes a little less dry and a little more wet, a little less perfect and a little more hurried. He brings up a hand to slide through Tyler’s hair, soft and barely long enough to tug.

The movie finishes, at some point, switching to the Grinch cartoon – Jamie only knows because he can vaguely hear the music through the roaring in his ears. It’s a struggle to breathe and keep kissing Tyler at the same time, desperate to push harder, to keep feeling Tyler’s mouth under his as wet and soft and pliable as it is, to not mess with whatever this moment is and break it. It’s too quiet somehow, neither of them making any noise, like one displaced groan or gasp might be the thing that does them in. His stomach hurts in a way that feels good, and he’s rocking his hips in a short, stuttery pattern, his dick hard and so close to getting the friction he needs to come, if he were willing to angle his body just another inch.

As it is, the proximity of their bodies and the feeling of Tyler’s mouth on his might be enough to finish him off. Tyler tastes like nothing Jamie’s ever tasted before, something unique that has him feeling dazed. It’s hot, is all he can think, hot and wet and Tyler’s tongue slides against his _fuck_ , he can’t _think_. Jamie cants his hips, pushing his dick up against Tyler’s thigh. 

Tyler almost breaks their unstated agreement to be quiet when he lets out a heavy, shaking breath. Jamie can feel Tyler’s fingers grasping at Jamie’s shoulder, can see the way his adam’s apple moves when he swallows. He drops his head to mouth at Jamie’s neck, a sensation that pools low in his gut and sends a pulse straight to his dick.

He doesn’t understand why Tyler decided to kiss him. He doesn’t want to stop and ask about Tyler’s motivations – it’s probably some kind of temporary insanity on Tyler’s part, caused by too much friction and body heat and one very boring movie. They might never talk about it afterwards. They might never _do_ this again, not once the moment is broken.

Jamie has to savor every touch, every feeling, every taste, for as long as he can.

He might never get to have this much of Tyler again, this intimate part of him that Jamie never thought he’d even get to see, his lips red and wet and swollen, his breathing stuttered and his fingers shaking. He suddenly, desperately, wants Tyler to _look_ at him, but the angle is wrong, Tyler’s face pressing against his neck.

His hand is still in Tyler’s hair. With that thought, he tugs, and Tyler follows his lead, pulling back, but Jamie doesn’t get the chance to catch his eyes. Instead, Tyler goes back in for another kiss, licking his way into Jamie’s mouth without pause, without hesitation. 

Jamie moans against Tyler’s mouth, and somehow, it doesn’t break the moment at all.

His breath comes out in quick and quicker gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as Tyler slides the hand on Jamie’s shoulder down his chest, and then lower until he’s pushing his palm firmly right over Jamie’s dick. It’s a painfully blunt touch through the material of Jamie’s khakis, but its _Tyler’s hand_ that’s touching him, _Tyler’s_ fingers providing that pressure, and it’s more than Jamie can handle. Jamie’s stomach tenses, his back straightening against the mattress. He keeps gasping into Tyler’s mouth, shuddering as he comes, Tyler kissing him all the while.

It takes a minute, after that, to slowly come back to his senses.

There’s sweat dripping down the back of his knee, sliding down the back of his neck. The sensation of come in his boxers is rough and unpleasant, and the Grinch is still obnoxiously playing in the background, but none of it’s important in the face of what Tyler’s doing: breathing harshly against Jamie’s cheek, his fingers curled around his dick in a tight fist, jerking it desperately after having tugged it out and over the waistband of his sweats.

Jamie wants to kiss him again, wants to drag him close enough that they’ll never come apart again. It’s a stupid thought, something his brain could only come up with right after coming, but he’s unable to rip his eyes away from the sight – Tyler’s hands, hands he’s seen hundreds of thousands of times do hundreds of thousands of things, pulling at his dick, short and wide and blunt at the tip where it’s sticky and wet, and his balls thick and rubbed red – and Jamie is overwhelmed with _want_ despite having just come.

Of course, it’s a different kind of want, or maybe just – more.

He doesn’t even have time to think about reaching down and wrapping a fist around Tyler’s, to _help_ , before Tyler lets a broken, painful-sounding sob escape his throat, the noise cut off abruptly when Tyler shoves his face into Jamie’s neck. His come spurts out in increments as he keeps fucking into his hand, slower and slower as he’s finally spent.

Then they’re both left there, sticky and sweaty and breathing at a pace to match the pounding of their chests. Both of them manage to stay unnaturally still despite everything they just did – or maybe because of it. Tyler hadn’t said so much as a word through all of it, had barely made any sounds at all. Jamie doesn’t know why Tyler doesn’t move, but his own excuse is somewhere between disbelief and body crippling fear of what exactly comes next.

He shouldn’t be scared – whatever this is, Tyler started it. Whatever this is, Tyler will still be his best friend, his teammate, afterward.

But he can’t move, let alone look Tyler in the eyes, and his heart is thumping so loudly in his chest that he knows Tyler can hear it, because he thinks he can hear Tyler’s too. He knows how this goes from here. It’s just one of those things. It won’t happen again. 

It didn’t actually mean anything.

For all that he couldn’t think a minute ago, his thoughts won’t stop now, spiraling suddenly.

It’s Tyler. Tyler has no concept of personal space, of boundaries, and jerking off with his best friend is probably – probably normal, in his head, a natural progression, a –

Jamie clenches his fist. _Fuck._ He can’t think. Tyler is still right there, chest heaving, body warm, mouth wet and lips so swollen red that it’ll be obvious what they’ve just done if anyone sees. It’s inevitable that what finally gets them to move is Jamie’s mother, yelling up the stairs for what sounds like the second or third time, “Boys! If you don’t get down here, the food’s disappearing!”

They must not have heard her call up before. Jamie takes a moment to close his eyes and thank whoever’s listening that she hadn’t come up to find out why they weren’t coming down.

Tyler slowly tucks himself back into his sweats before rolling off the bed, leaving Jamie feeling abruptly hot and cold all at the same time. Hot, out of embarrassment because he has to stumble and change his khakis out for a pair of basketball shorts, and cold, because Tyler’s body isn’t all along his anymore. 

“Uh,” Tyler says, and his voice breaks on the sound. Jamie jerks his head up, because Tyler’s voice hasn’t broken like that since he was thirteen. Tyler’s face goes from the pink of exertion to the cherry red of horrified embarrassment, and he’s out the door faster than Jamie can tug his new pair of shorts on.

Jamie’s mom gives him an odd look when he comes down a minute later, and he smiles shakily at her before grabbing a slice of turkey and a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Tyler comes in a second later, having stopped in the bathroom – presumably to wash the come off his fingers where he’d –

Jamie looks at the ceiling, willing the red in his face to go away.

Tyler keeps his head down as he eats, and it’s awkwardly quiet until Jamie clears his throat and says, “Let’s play CoD.”

“Finish eating first,” his mom interjects from where she’s at in the kitchen, but Tyler lifts his head and says, “Yeah, cool,” and Jamie feels relief all the way to his toes. Tyler grins, shoveling broccoli in his mouth, and Jamie fidgets for a second before doing the same. Tyler still feels off – like his grin isn’t quite real, and for all that Jamie knows Tyler is something of a master when it comes to hiding his feelings when he’s hurt, he’s never actually been able to tell when Tyler is faking versus when he isn’t – probably because Tyler has never bothered to fake anything with Jamie.

Except for freshman year, anyway.

When Tyler had started getting bullied by some of the seniors, and Jamie hadn’t found out until Tyler had been kicked off the team for something he hadn’t even done but was stupidly taking the blame for. But that was a different sort of situation, Jamie knows, and one that they’d fixed together, along with a lot of late-night hockey practice, and a lot of talking about their feelings, not just to each other, but to the coach, the school counselor, and Tyler’s parents.

Jamie still hates that he’d never noticed anything was wrong, that Tyler hadn’t told him until it was his place on the team at risk. But that was three years ago, and it was over. Tyler hasn’t, as far as Jamie knows, hidden anything from Jamie since then. He’s the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, who doesn’t hold secrets in and tells Jamie every thought that crosses his mind as soon as he thinks it. 

But this situation is different; it’s charged with uncertainty and awkwardness, and maybe it’s normal, after all, for Tyler to grin like that – like he’s hiding something. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s regretting it. 

The idea sits heavy in Jamie’s stomach as they sit down in front of the living room television with about two feet of space between them. But Jamie’s stomach is still doing flips, and he can still feel the heat rise in his face when he thinks about how soft Tyler’s mouth turned out to be. The mixed feelings make him feel sick, like he might throw up any minute. He dies in-game, and then dies again, and then Tyler says, “It’s kind of hard not to think about.”

He’s tugging awkwardly at a loose strand of fabric on his shorts, loose in the seam, and Jamie knows what Tyler’s dick looks like. He knows what Tyler _sounds_ like when he comes. 

He says, “Yeah,” and then clears his throat and says it again, because the first attempt might not have been understandable from the hoarse way his voice had sounded. 

“I just,” Tyler says, and his character finally dies on the screen, though neither of them are paying attention anymore, “want to know, you know, if it was a good thing or a bad thing.” His mouth opens, like he’s about to elaborate on what that even means, but then he clamps it shut instead.

Jamie’s instinct is to say _I don’t know_ , in the hopes that they can figure it out together. But the way Tyler isn’t looking at him hurts in a way that doesn’t make sense. His stomach is revolting, and his head hurts. His throat isn’t dry, but he can’t speak.

What is he supposed to say? What is Tyler asking for? What does Tyler even want? 

Why did he _kiss Jamie_?

Was it a good thing, or a bad thing? Fuck, no matter why Tyler did it, there’s only one answer. 

“Good,” he says, staring at the little blue light shining on the corner of the PS4.

He takes a chance to glance to his left and ends up staring instead.

Tyler’s flushed pink, all the way through his cheeks to the bridge of his nose and down the back of his neck. Jamie’s fingers twitch and he has the hot urge to lean forward and kiss him. He doesn’t, but it’s kind of a close call. Jamie scratches at the back of his neck. Shit. Even though he’s had a crush on Tyler for years, he’s never had a problem controlling the urge to touch him, and now it’s all he can do to keep from pushing him to the floor and doing something his mom would _definitely_ notice.

Tyler doesn’t actually say anything, and the loading screen waits for them to start playing again. Jamie coughs, awkwardly, and feels like he has to point this out before it gets any more fucking awkward – “Uh, Ty, you’re – you’re the one who kissed me, so.”

Tyler lets out a strangled laugh, almost a cough, and finally looks at Jamie with wide eyes. 

“Yeah, I mean, that’s why you’re the one that has to tell me what’s gonna happen, you know, now,” Tyler says in a hushed tone, like he thinks Jamie’s mom is about to walk in and ask what they’re talking about or something. 

Jamie startles, because that makes no sense. “I have to – Tyler, you’re the – what?” Jamie’s panicking; can feel the way it’s climbing his throat, making his voice strangled and disbelieving.

Tyler brings his hands up, lays them back down. Says, “I made the first move. Ball’s in your court.” His voice, for all that he’s clearly trying to seem casual, is shaking.

Jamie’s limbs feel all frozen up, and like he’s got electricity running through his veins, all at the same time. It’s a fucking weird sensation, mixed with the heat that’s curling in his gut. He nods, well aware that the Earth is tilting on its axis and this is some kind of dream that doesn’t make sense, and says, “Okay. You, uh, want to date?” And then, because the planet is already imploding or something, he adds, “Because I’d be into that. Uh, really into it. I kind of – like you. I have for a long time, actually? And you can just, say yes or no, like, right now, before I die.”

He thinks he would, actually, quite possibly, die from the sick overheated feeling in his gut if not just from the sheer amount of panic and embarrassment, if Tyler didn’t stumble over his own words and say, “No, yeah, that sounds good. We can date. We should definitely date.”

Jamie nods again, the tense coil in his stomach not receding, like he can’t quite let out a breath he isn’t even holding. They sit like that, just for a second, before Tyler drops his game controller and crawls over the two feet of floor space between them. He’s on his knees, sort of hovering, before Jamie reaches up to pull him in closer.

It might be awkward, the way Tyler is bent, but Jamie presses their foreheads together for a second before their mouths seem to slide into place, soft and easy. Tyler winces, pulling back, and mutters, “You kiss really hard. My mouth is kind of, uh,” before trailing off. Jamie grins, and says, “Sorry.”

Tyler rolls his eyes, twisting to sit down next to Jamie, this time close enough that their thighs are touching. “Yeah,” he says, voice a drawl, “I’m sure.”

Jamie bumps his shoulder, grabs the controller off the floor, and then – because why the fuck not – kisses at the soft spot right behind Tyler’s ear. They’re both red when Jamie’s mom wanders in a minute later and asks why they’re grinning like maniacs, but, well.

He’s happy, is all, and Tyler keeps sending little grins his way, and Jamie thinks _I’m dating my best friend_ , and that’s that.


End file.
